CHAPTER THREE-“MINE”

Julliette.

The thing about rookies? They either shut up and blend in, or they try way too hard. Luka Simpson definitely wasn’t the first kind.

I had clocked him since day one — younger than the others, still soft around the jaw despite the muscle, with this restless energy that made it feel like the air around him buzzed. Puppy energy, I told myself. Cute.

Manageable. Like one of those golden retrievers who licks your face even when you’re trying to scold it.

Except this puppy was six-foot-two, moved like a predator, and smiled like he had never once been told no.

I was re-taping my kit bag when he plopped onto the bench across from me after practice, sweaty, grinning, and way too close.

“Hey, Julli.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, dripping water down his neck like some kind of discount Gatorade commercial. “You got a minute?”

“No,” I said automatically, eyes still on my bag. Rule number one: Do not encourage the puppies. They follow you home.

He laughed. “Good one. I just… uh. My shoulder’s tight. Can you check it out?”

“You know there’s a literal massage therapist two doors down?”

“Yeah, but you’re better.” He said it like a fact, no hesitation, and stretched his arm out toward me. The sleeve of his compression shirt rode up, showing tan skin and a muscle twitching like it was begging for my attention.

I rolled my eyes, but fine. Shoulders I could do in my sleep. I stood, stepped closer, and put my hands on him and my world flooded.

Not like with Caleb. Not sharp heat and fire.

This was worse. This was a surge, a flood, like someone had plugged me into a circuit that ran through my bones. My knees buckled.

“Oh, hell,” I gasped before I could stop myself.

Luka froze under my touch. His head snapped up, eyes wide, pupils blown black. “Did you feel that?”

“Nope,” I croaked, yanking my hand back. “Didn’t feel a thing. Nerve pinch. Happens all the time. You should probably ice it—”

“Julliette” My name on his lips was a low growl, nothing eager or puppy about it.

He stood to his feet, towering over me now, so close I could smell the wild heat on his skin. “You’re mine.”

The words were out before he could stop them. His hand shot out, catching my wrist, and when his skin brushed mine again, the current doubled, slamming into me so hard I almost swayed. My pulse went haywire. My lungs forgot how to work.

“Excuse me?” I managed, though it came out more like a squeak.

His face was raw, expression wide open. Not cocky like Caleb, not cold like Rhett. Just… desperate. Hungry. “You’re mine. I know it. I knew there was something there, the second I saw you.”

Panic flared. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This was exactly the kind of headline that got therapists fired and sued.

I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. He was solid heat and tension, looking at me like I was the only thing he wanted.

Then the door banged open.

“Luka.”

Bryan’s voice was a whip crack. The captain stood in the doorway, expression hard, eyes locked on where Luka’s hand circled my wrist.

Luka didn’t let go. His jaw set, his body vibrating with defiance. “She’s mine,” he shot back, not even flinching.

I froze between them, my heart racing so hard it hurt.

Bryan stare shifted to me, searing, claiming. Luka’s grip burned on my skin, fierce and unrelenting.

And for the first time, I realized I wasn’t going to get out of this undamaged. I was standing dead center in a storm I didn’t understand.

“Mine.”

I’d seen Bryan pissed before—on the ice, in that lethal, captain-in-command way. But this wasn’t the cold authority he used on referees or teammates who stepped out of line.

This was something worst.

His gaze flicked from Luka’s hand locked around my wrist to my face, and my lungs forgot how to take in air.

“Let her go,” Rhett said, voice low enough to be a growl.

Luka tightened his grip instead, chin jutting out like he was daring him. “She’s not yours, Maddox.”

Oh, great. Fantastic. Just what my traitorous body needed.

“Okay,” I said, stepping back or I tried to, except Luka didn’t move. “This is adorable, really, but I’m not an interested in whatsoever is going on so maybe we can dial back the testosterone before someone rips their shirt off?”

Neither of them laughed.

In fact, Luka’s hold on me pulsed hotter, almost buzzing. His pupils were still huge, showing the blue flecks in his eyes, and it wasn’t just adrenaline. It was that same current I had felt when I touched him.

And Bryan—god. His eyes burned like wildfire, scorching and cutting, but underneath was something I hadn’t seen before. Need.

“Bryan” I tried again, because one of us had to be sane. “It’s fine. Rookie has just got boundary issues.”

“I felt it,” Luka snapped, like I hadn’t spoken.

He finally dropped my wrist but didn’t back off, his chest still rising and falling like he had sprinted laps. “She’s mine.”

“You don’t get to say that,” Bryan bit out. He stepped closer, all muscle and deadly calm,the room shrinking with the force of him. “You don’t even know what you’re claiming.”

Luka barked a laugh, sharp and reckless. “I know enough.”

The air between them felt charged, dangerous, like if I so much as breathed wrong the whole damn place would explode.

And me? My skin was still tingling where Luka had touched me. My heart was still hammering from Bryan’s stare. Invisible, my ass. I was glowing like a neon sign that said come fight over me.

I shoved my hands on my hips, channeling every ounce of therapist-authority I had. “Listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing. rookie initiation, hazing ritual, whatever but I’m not interested in being your chew toy.”

Silence.

Both of them turned to look at me. Not like I was a chew toy. No. Like I was something else entirely.

Something hunted.

Something owned.

The hair on my arms lifted. My stomach dropped. Because for one insane second, I believed them.

Bryan broke the moment first, snapping his attention back to Luka. “Out.”

Luka’s mouth twisted. “Make me.”

Rhett took a step forward. Just one. And Luka sneered, taking a step back. Barely. But I saw it.

The rookie’s bravado cracked, his chest heaving harder now, like he had stepped too close to a fire and realized it could burn us both:

Bryan didn’t have to raise his voice. He didn’t even have to bare his teeth. His presence alone filled the space, crushing, commanding.

And Luka. young, reckless Luka hesitated.

Then, with one last glance at me, raw and aching, he shoved past Bryan and slammed the door behind him.

I sagged against the bench, trying to catch my breath.

“Well,” I muttered, because apparently my coping mechanism was sarcasm. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

Bryan didn’t move. He stood there, broad shoulders tense, jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding against each other.

Boy was he pissed.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked.

I blinked at him. “Me? Excuse me, Captain Broody, but I was minding my own business before your rookie decided to grab me like I was his property.”

His eyes cut to me, furious. But underneath that fury was something else. Something raw.

Something that could ruin me. Something I wanted to ruin me.

“You should stay away from him,” he said.

I laughed, hysterical. “Stay away? You say that like this is high school and he’s the bad boy you are warning me about. Newsflash, I’m a grown woman, I don’t need a babysitter, and I definitely don’t need—” “You don’t understand,” he snapped, stepping closer. “The bond doesn’t care what you need.

”

My mouth went dry. My brain stumbled over the word.

Bond?

“What bond?” I asked.

I was lost. They keep spinning my world out of the same orbit I knew.

He didn’t answer. He just stared at me, jaw tight , eyes burning with something that scared the hell out of me because it wasn’t anger.

It was ruin disguised as want.

And it was mine.